Sixteen years old. Suicide attempt.

It wasn’t Chen Rang’er’s fault, not alone. But Xingyu wasn’t about to give assurances to someone who knew that his own father was hurting the man he liked and still did nothing about it. At the very least, if he had gone to Xiao-Xiao and admitted what he knew, Xiao-Xiao could have had a friend.

Chen Rang’er eventually went back to his mother and Xingyu returned to the room. Weiran hadn’t moved from where he’d initially collapsed by Xiao-Xiao’s side.

“Has he done anything? Moved?”

Weiran didn’t answer. When Xingyu went closer, he saw that his eyes were open, that he was looking at Xiao-Xiao, that he was hardly even blinking. Like he’d become comatose right alongside Xiao-Xiao.

“Weiran,” Xingyu said. “Zhang Weiran.”

Weiran still didn’t answer.

Xingyu felt something then—something he hadn’t ever felt before. It took him a moment to identify it just because it was so foreign to him.

Envy.

Was it because of the way Weiran was looking at Xiao-Xiao?—was it because Weiran, just in seeing Xiao-Xiao like this, had lost control over himself, and was now seemingly incapable of doing anything else beyond just waiting for Xiao-Xiao to open his eyes? Was it because Weiran used to look at Xingyu like he’d hung the sun, and now he looked at Xiaokai like that?

No. No, that wasn’t it—Xingyu didn’t miss Weiran’s attention. Weiran moving his attention to Xiao-Xiao didn’t make him envious. No, it was the fact that Weiran liked anyone at all that made him envious. It was the fact that Weiran reacted so viscerally to just the sight of Xiao-Xiao that he’d become like this. It was the fact that he felt so strongly and so powerfully that it was undeniable.

It was the fact that Weiran had blushed and turned away and hidden his feelings for Xingyu, but that, when it came to Xiao-Xiao, he didn’t even try to hide it.

It was the fact that Xingyu would never experience what that felt like on either side.

He went to stand behind Weiran and dropped a hand onto his shoulder. It seemed to startle Weiran out of his stasis, but the first thing he said was, “I’m not leaving.”

“I know. I’m going to make some calls and then get a cot set up in here for you. You can stay here tonight. I’ll bring you your computer in the morning.”

Weiran craned his neck back to look at Xingyu. “you’re not staying? But what if—”